


SNAPED: A Hogwarts Christmas Carol

by storyplease



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A Christmas Carol, Christmas, F/M, Gen, Parody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-09 18:52:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8907958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storyplease/pseuds/storyplease
Summary: Severus Snape has survived Nagini's bite these seven years, but he is still the same bitter, horrible man he's always been. But when he is visited by a familiar face who should have had the common decency to stay dead, Severus finds himself forced to reconsider the true meaning of Christmas.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, because I can’t leave well enough alone, and recently listened to Neil Gaiman’s lovely reading of “A Christmas Carol,” I found myself wanting to write a fun little AU homage to Dickens with our very favorite surly Potions master.
> 
> I’m going to try and release this in parts, which will largely follow the plot of “A Christmas Carol,” though there will be a number of differences, and maybe a bit of my favorite OTP in the end, muse willing. So, without further ado, put another log on the fire, grab a hot cuppa and get ready for...

 

Albus Dumbledore was dead. Dead as a doornail, as the saying went. That was to say, he’d been dead for seven long years.  And, though Severus Snape had been the one who had cast the spell that had extinguished his soul from this world and pushed his body from the top of the Astronomy Tower, he did not fault himself for it. He’d made peace with himself about the whole thing, he reasoned. He’d been doing his duty, nothing more, nothing less. And so, the years had passed, with him retaining his job as Headmaster, though he found the duties it expected of him to be tedious at best.

 

Though he hated being Headmaster of Hogwarts, one of its few distinctive benefits was the fact that he could not be fired without unanimous board approval (Lucius Malfoy had seen to it that he retain the position until long after the Ministry had deemed him innocent of any crimes), and that any temporary removal would not include suspension of pay, which meant that the long, nine month process of after-war hearings had allowed Severus a long and quiet break brewing new potions for patent, which as far as he was concerned, was the opposite of a punishment. The final, and most enjoyable part of being Headmaster was that he was the final say on any and all professorial assignments, which included allowing him to appoint himself as Defense professor.

 

Sure, the scar from Nagini’s bite was unsightly, and its venom had caused the hair at his temples to go nearly snow-white along with some lasting pain in his joints that was sorted easily enough with a potion, but Severus didn’t care for such superficial things and disparaged of those who tried to make him seem like some sort of romantic hero. And, though Harry Potter himself had sworn up and down that Severus was a reformed man who no longer held evil in his heart, the hook-nosed man remained as dour and cruel as he always had been. 

 

The war had taken a toll on the economy, and Severus knew that hard times were inevitable.  Though the professors grumbled about the suspension of pay increases, Severus had pointed out the nearly-demolished castle wouldn’t just be fixing itself with magic, regardless of what they had read in “Hogwarts, a History” and that food prices would inevitably rise after so many businesses has been destroyed or taken over by the Dark Lord and his henchmen.  Severus, however, did not understand why so many people were complaining.  After all, he’d lived sparsely for all his years- his severe robes and spartan living quarters were proof of that.  He’d kept his old quarters in the dungeons, but had access to Albus’ headmaster’s rooms, and had moved nearly all of the old fool’s various useless bric a brac into the room.  Severus was methodical and focused. He did not have the time for nonsense.

 

It got especially loud and annoying during the holidays, though he was unsure what the holidays had ever done for him.  Halloween had always been a nightmare; a tradition that had long been kept even before his only friend in the world had been murdered that fateful October 31st.  And as for the supposed “magic” of Christmas Eve? Bah! He’d been lucky to get cold fish and chips left over from his father’s gallivanting out at the pub until all hours of the night. His parents had never had the means to buy their own Christmas tree, after all, or the gaudy decorations that would be required to trim it. As far as Severus was concerned, the whole lot of holiday celebratory nonsense was utter hogwash, especially the extent of Christmas-time cheer that was had within the hallowed halls of Hogwarts.

 

“Fekking bollocks, the lot of it,” he growled, as he poured over the long list of festivities that Minerva had submitted to him earlier that morning. Why would they need ten presents per child staying at Hogwarts this Christmas? One should be sufficient.

 

“One...small...present..school supplies, if possible” he wrote jaggedly, crossing out the line written in Minerva’s precise script.

 

A knock at the door made him growl with irritation.

 

“Come in,” he said, looking up at the grandfather clock in the corner. “You are very nearly late, Professor Granger.”

 

“It's technically still Weasley,” the bushy-haired Potions mistress said with a wary look. “Ron and I have decided not to formally proceed with the divorce until after the new year.”

 

“And is there a point you wished to make by prattling on so?” Severus replied waspishly. “For being forced to put up with your incessant need to offer up far more information on any given subject, I ought to dock your pay, Professor  _ Weasley _ .”

 

That shut her up. With a worried look, she sat down on the small, hard chair he kept in front of his desk.

 

“So, I hear that you were trying to use excessive heating methods to warm your classroom,” Severus said, steepling his fingers and glaring down his nose at her.  His chair was set much higher than hers so that even a fully grown adult would feel as though he were looming over them, a sensation that he enjoyed with gusto. 

 

“I simply thought that-”

 

Snape interrupted her by slamming his fist on the table. 

 

“No, Professor Weasley, the problem is that you don't think at all!” Snape sneered and stood, rounding the desk and pacing behind her with his hands clasped behind his back. “Do you know where we get the wood for our fires?”

 

“...the forest, sir?”

 

“The forest.” Snape pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh filled with exaggerated exasperation. He didn't even know why he bothered sometimes. Smartest witch of her age? What a load of fekking bollocks. “Well, I suppose that's  _ technically _ correct. I can't believe you've been at Hogwarts since your Sorting and you haven't even had the decency to learn anything about the basic ways that we run our school.  After all, I vaguely recall your irritatingly smug declarations about having committed  _ Hogwarts, a History _ to memory.”

 

The Potions mistress squirmed under his gaze, her mouth clamped shut, her eyes filled with silent outrage.

 

‘Simply delightful,’ thought Snape. 

 

He paced a few more moments before turning abruptly and leaning over her menacingly.

 

“Our wood,” he growled, with a pause for dramatic effect, “comes from centaur-controlled lands from within the Forbidden Forest.  It is, in fact, one of their primary exports.”

 

“Exports, sir?” Hermione squirmed. 

 

“Exports,” Snape repeated. “And, since you are such a  _ clever _ woman, I am sure that you can imagine just how far reaching the forest fire raged after the Battle of Hogwarts was over and everyone was far too busy celebrating to be concerned with the forest and its inhabitants, yes?”

 

Her hand flew over her mouth and she nodded dumbly. 

 

“I, after all, was in a coma at the time, so I was indisposed,” Snape continued, grinning ghoulishly. “It makes me wonder, though.”

 

“What, sir?”  Hermione was gritting her teeth as though she had just swallowed something exceedingly bitter. 

 

“What your excuse was for not helping them,” Snape continued, his voice artificially nonchalant as he looked over his fingers. “They lost nearly 50% of their old-growth timber, and their water sources were polluted by runoff from the fire for months. Why, it's a miracle that the Ministry didn't fine each and every one of you lot for the damages after the centaur herd successfully sued for damages.”

 

“I ne-never knew, sir,” Hermione said quietly.  He nearly grinned with glee when he realized that she was quietly crying.

 

It would serve her right, the insufferable, so-called know-it-all finally being forced to confront her hubris. 

 

“That's why I am the headmaster and you are likely about to be saddled alone with your brats now that your beloved husband has decided to trade up for the lovely head of Magical Law Enforcement. I hear that Miss Chang has already purchased her wedding robes.”

 

She clenched her fists. “You have no right.”

 

“Do not presume what I do or do not have the right to do, Professor Weasley. One more crack like that, and I shall have to place you under Administrative Review.” He relished how she shrank in on herself, her fists practically vibrating with fury

 

There was a knock at the door and Severus pulled away from her, striding back to his chair. 

 

“Come in,” he said, gesturing at the door with his wand. 

 

It sprang open and in walked a familiar figure with a large pine wreath. 

 

“Happy Christmas, Godfather!” Draco Malfoy said, placing the wreath down with a dazzling grin. 

 

“Surely there’s at least a few weeks left before that blasted day,” Snape replied, looking up with a scowl.

 

“Oh, I see you’re in a meeting,” Draco said, waving merrily at Hermione, who waved back with a tiny smile on her face at his exuberance.  “Never fear! I shan’t be long!”

 

Draco had truly reformed himself after the war, which Snape supposed was all well and good in the eyes of the press, but instead of the proud and self-absorbed pure-blooded boy, he’d turned into a joyful, exuberant man who regularly donated his time and money to charitable causes and was, in general, an insufferable menace as far as Snape was concerned. What was worse, his children were best friends with the Potter/Weasley clans, and he was constantly showing up at the school to visit without having the decency to let Snape know beforehand so that he could arrange to be away from his office.

 

“And to what do I owe this...unexpected visit?” Snape attempted to focus every ounce of his irritation into his voice, but Draco merely smiled back, utterly unfazed. 

 

Well, with someone like Lucius Malfoy as a father, it would make sense that Snape wouldn’t have much of an effect, he finally decided. Blast and tarnation, but he just wanted to be left alone!

 

“Oh, I just wanted to stop by and give you a bit of holiday cheer, since I heard that you appear to have a deficit in that department,” Draco said, looking around and shrugging. “Seems that was an understatement. I should have brought ornaments and a tree as well.”

 

“You will do no such thing!” Snape replied, his voice going slightly hysterical. Blasted man! He needed to get rid of him, and quickly. “In any case, I prefer to keep my office a certain way.  Decorations are a distraction.”

 

“Though I don’t agree, I shall simply say that we shall have to agree to disagree on that particular subject,” Draco said, shaking his head. “In any case, the main reason I wished to stop by, other than to wish you a merry Christmas is to invite you to a party we’re having tomorrow night.  It’s Christmas, you see, and-”

 

“Absolutely not!” Severus snapped. “I have duties to perform here, as you well know.”

 

“Oh piffle, Godfather, you know as well as I do that you can spare an hour or two in the evening. I even asked Minerva, and she said she would be happy to cover for you.” Draco’s eyes danced with laughter, and Snape felt his stomach begin to churn.

 

“Hmph,” Snape replied, “It is no one’s place to tell me to what endeavors I shall devote my time. Now, then, I have much to do. Good afternoon.”

 

“But-”

 

“Good  _ afternoon _ .”

 

“C’mon, Snape, it’s Christmas we’re talking about!”  If Draco thought invoking his surname was going to work, he was dead wrong. Just because he’d been named as a godfather on some paper in some obscure place in the Ministry didn’t mean he had to suffer such injustice at the hands of a former student. 

 

“I shall remind you that you are to refer to me by my honorific if you would like to refer to me at all,” Snape replied, outraged. “Now, then. I repeat myself.  _ Good afternoon _ .”

 

The way he said those two words was like an expletive, and Draco flinched slightly in reaction to them, but he soon had a smile back on his lips and tipped his hat to Hermione saying only, “I shall bid you two adieu and a very, VERY Merry Christmas!” 

 

He nearly shouted the last two words, much to Snape’s dismay, before finally retreating through the door.

 

“Well? What are  _ you _ looking at?” Snape said to Hermione, whose face quickly went from one of great amusement to one of dread. “Go on, then, back to your classroom, then, and don’t let me hear about you using anything more than one log in the fireplace per day.  And no warming charms!”

 

The Potions mistress retreated from his desk at an almost comical speed, but just before she reached the door, he barked, “Professor Weasley!”

 

She froze in her tracks and turned.  “Sir?”

 

“I suppose you’ll be wanting all of Christmas day off,” Snape said bitterly.

 

“Well, it is customary, after all, I have to go see my family and-” 

 

“I just don’t understand why I have to pay for your leisure, especially when I already have to arrange for someone to cover your patrols,” Snape grumbled. “Very well, but you’ll be doing the early patrol first thing in the morning the day afterwards.”

 

Hermione’s shoulders slumped. “Yes, sir.”

 

“Very well. You’re dismissed, now.”  

 

Hermione slammed the door behind her before he could say anything else, which was just fine with him, really.

 

He’d just returned to the list and crossed out a couple of other inane activities (Wizarding Crackers? In this economy? There simply wasn’t a budget for them), when the door opened again and he looked up to see that Pomona Sprout and Filius Flitwick had barged in, their robes decked out in what Severus supposed must be nearly criminally Christmas-themed robes. Pomona’s cherry-red robes were trimmed with holly embroidery, and her hat had jingle bells attached to it that tinkled merrily along with the bells she wore around her neck and which also dangled from her ears.  Flitwick, on the other hand, was wearing silver and golden robes so sparkling and bright  that it nearly hurt to look at him.

 

“Are you attempting to double as the topper for the tree in the Great Hall, Filius?” Snape asked, shielding his eyes. “I can see no other reason you would need to be so garishly attired.”

 

“Hmph,” Flitwick squeaked. “If you must know, we are going around collecting money for the poor and destitute. As you well know, this time of the year we like to make a provision for those who must go without. What can we put you down for?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Oh, so you wish to remain anonymous?” Sprout was looking at him with a frozen expression full of hope.

 

“Tell me, is Azkaban full?” Snape asked, sneering slightly.

 

“Why, no, but-”

 

“And the work crews the Ministry has put together to rebuild? The tenement housing that they’ve provided for those left homeless by the war?” Snape stood, his face screwed up in disdain at the thought of such people, people who merely lay around waiting for someone else to solve the problems they’d brought upon themselves or those who were not resilient enough to pick themselves up when the slightest thing did not go their way.

 

Well, tough cookies. Snape had spent his entire life struggling to survive against all odds, and he did not look favorably upon those who’d suffered a mere fraction of the injustice he had and yet expected someone else to pick up the tab for their laziness.

 

“They do exist, but many do not wish to go there or cannot fulfill the stringent requirements. Some would rather die,” Pomona said, looking at Snape with a mixture of loathing and disgust.

 

“Well, then, they better hurry up and do it, as far as I’m concerned,” Snape replied, his own sense of disgust filling his voice. “Life isn’t a bunch of flowers and happiness. You have to work for what you want out of life, not expect for it to be given to you on a silver platter. Anyone attempting to tell you otherwise is a dirty liar and should not be trusted. We are not setting aside any of Hogwarts’ funds, nor shall I contribute a Galleon of my own hard-earned money simply so that some lowlife can booze away his Christmas with someone else’s money. Do as you will with your own funds, though I reserve the right to think you mad for doing so, but leave me out of it!”

 

Both of the professors looked so shocked at Snape’s tirade, that they stood frozen for a long moment before they turned, shaking their heads and muttering something that Snape couldn’t hear. Not that he cared what they said.  Dumbledore had run the school into the red every year he’d been Headmaster, often dipping into his own salary to pay for some of the more extravagant luxuries that everyone simply took for granted, and Snape was working with a constrained budget as it was due to the lingering economic aftermath of the war. 

 

Severus Snape was used to being hated, after all, but he was more used to surviving, even when it was against all odds. Hatred was easy- it was cheap. He wasn’t invited to parties (except for Draco, but that was hardly usual, and he wasn’t planning on attending anyway), and he never indulged in luxuries like Slughorn had.  Other than his job, Snape had very little to use his funds on beyond the rare potions ingredients that he couldn’t harvest from nature directly (and therefore cheaply).  But that didn’t mean that he was going to spend his hard-earned money on the wizarding equivalent of his drunken deadbeat of a father.

 

‘It’s fekking bollocks, is what it is,” he grumbled under his breath, looking forward to the solitude of his quarters at the end of this long and irritating day.  With any luck, he’d sleep late enough the following morning to nearly miss Christmas entirely.


	2. Part 2

Severus Snape had lived in the haunted castle that was Hogwarts for many a year, and so was very much unafraid of ghosts. Even the Bloody Baron had lost all but the merest of notice, as he sometimes went overboard with rattling his chains in the dungeons when people were trying to sleep, thank you very much.

 

Ah, well, that was nothing a little Muffilatio could not fix.

 

After a rather tense dinner, in which Severus found out that the staff had gone behind his back and pooled their money and talents to put on a rather obnoxious Christmas display, complete with the highest end Wizarding Crackers on the market, seemingly in a bid to show him up, Severus was utterly fed up with Christmas.  The students had predictably erupted in cheers, excitedly chanting the names of everyone on staff except for Snape, who had excused himself at the earliest possible moment with a glowering expression that could have curdled milk. 

  
The festivities seemed to grow louder as soon as the door to the Great Hall shut behind him and he growled “Fekkin’ bollocks, the lot of it,” as he descended the stairs towards his dungeon quarters, alone.

 

Now, with the majority of the school’s population out for the holidays and the remaining staff and children accounted for in the Great Hall, it was a rather quiet, dark walk to his door, but Snape didn’t mind it much.  In fact, he coveted his solitude, rare as it was, and instead of wasting the energy to cast a Warming Charm or light the tip of his wand, Severus merely pulled his robes more tightly around himself and kept close to the wall so that he could touch it every so often and confirm he was still going the right direction.  He was, after all, used to walking around the castle in the darkness, as it made for sneaking up on rule-breaking students far easier and much more satisfying.

 

When Severus reached his door, though, he did raise his wand in order to check the wards and lower them in order to enter.  He used a special silent spell he’d created for this purpose, which made the door light up as though filling its grain with tiny rivulets of greenish light until he could see all of the complex runes he’d set into the wood.  Finally, they pooled up near the top of the door in the shape of a door knocker, which Snape would normally rap three times in quick succession in order to undo the wards and enter his chamber.

 

Everything worked normally until he reached for the doorknocker. Somehow, though he hadn’t seen it change, suddenly it was Albus Dumbledore’s head holding the metal ring in his teeth, and not the usual ornate gargoyle head. Severus stared in horror at the visage of the old man with his absurdly long beard and his impish wink, but, before he could do anything, Albus was simply not there any longer, and the customary blank-eyed gargoyle stared back at him.  Severus rubbed his eyes and growled low in the back of his throat.

  
“Tired...that’s all,” he managed, knocking three times and pushing through the open door into his chambers.

 

Severus still looked through the entirety of his private quarters, his mind turned more towards unseemly pranks than any true phantom of the long-dead headmaster ( _ that you killed _ , a tiny voice reminded him from deep within his head), but found nothing. And so, with a small fire in the grate, Severus undressed for bed, sat by the fire in his faded gray nightgown with a cup of tea and a biscuit (for he liked a little something to settle his stomach before bed, especially since it seemed that he might be coming down with a cold) and began to read the latest Potions digest that had arrived by owl that morning.

 

He nearly jumped when he heard the sound of tiny silver bells next to his ear.  The ringing got louder and louder, and as he stood and spun around wildly, his wand pointed towards the source of the sound, he realized that he could see nothing at all that might have made the noise. His stomach churned as he remembered where he’d last heard the sound- for he’d been there when Albus Dumbledore had unwrapped those horrible, garish slippers tipped with tiny silver bells- a gift from the headmaster from the magical school located in Egypt- the one that most people in the English Wizarding World didn’t know actually existed whose name roughly translated to something like “Hall of Wonders” in English. Severus felt his lip curl at the memory.  The insufferable man had worn those damned shoes all the time, particularly, it seemed, when he’d been forced to spend time with the doddering old fool.

 

“I should leave them to you in my will,” Albus had said, which had prompted a disgusted groan from Severus. “They truly are the most comfortable things in the world. Breathable too! Besides, they  _ were _ free...”

 

Snape had made sure to bury the bastard in the damn things.

 

But if that was the case….Severus found himself frozen where he stood as the sound of something heavy thumped above him, the sound of something heavy dragging down the stone stairs and echoing down the hallway until they finally came to the door of his quarters.

 

And, then, what Severus had dreaded the most came to pass- a nearly transparent figure with half-moon spectacles and a beard tangled up in chains came into his sitting room dragging heavy boxes behind him.

 

“So, you’ve returned, have you? Well, then, out with it, Albus. I don’t have all night!” Severus said, screwing up his face in a manner most unpleasant.

 

The ghost, for that was what he was, stared back with death-cold eyes that somehow twinkled, though it was a cold twinkle like the light of the dying sun reflecting off of a twin pair of faceted diamonds.

 

“Severusssss,” the apparition said gravely, “I have come because you have always been a friend, so you deserve to know.  I have much to tell you and very little time to tell it to you, so you must forgive me for dispensing with the niceties.”

 

With that, the ghost sat down in the chair across from Severus’, and Severus found himself scrambling to take a seat. 

 

“You don’t believe in me, do you?” Albus said, almost cheerfully, despite the horrid clanking chains that appeared to add hundreds of pounds of weight to any of his movements.

 

“And if I said yes?” Snape momentarily hoped that perhaps this would be enough to make the damnable man stop haunting him from beyond the grave.

 

“I would still be here to give you the information I have been tasked in providing to you.”

 

“And why should I listen to anything you have to say? After all, it’s possible that my nightly snack has disagreed with me,” Severus replied, trying to think of any other reason why he might be sitting across from a man so long dead. “And I did visit the Potions classroom the other day. Perhaps the fumes have stuck with me and only belatedly went into effect.  Professor Granger may have slipped something into my pudding out of spite.  After all, I was a right arse to her this afternoon.”

 

“You are the same as ever, Severus,” Albus replied mildly, though it was obvious that he was disappointed, “Has it not occurred to you that you survived Nagini’s attack for a reason? That your place in life is not to stay as you always have been, doing the things in the stunted way that you always have?”

 

“Get to the point, Albus,” Severus replied, crossing his arms. “You obviously didn’t rise from the grave for some idle chatter about my wellbeing. I must say that I am a bit disappointed. I’d thought a spirit of your stature would be more... _ spirited _ .”

 

Albus fixed Severus with a strange look and pulled one of his arms off, pointing it at Severus with his still-attached appendage. “You think that this is funny, but you must heed my words Severus, less you suffer the same fate that I do.  For, you see, I am saddled with the chains of pain and suffering that I forged in life- many of which were forged in the name of the Greater Good.  I take responsibility for my mistakes and the deaths that I caused, but you….you are the same as ever.  Deflecting your self consciousness and cruelly bullying those who have less power than you do.  Severus Snape, if you find my chains to be unsightly, perhaps you ought to be more concerned about the chains that you forge even now with your abhorrent behavior. You are a miser of the worst order- a man who sees the world in such narrow ways that nothing but your own beliefs can ever be considered correct. In short, Severus, you are doomed if you continue to refuse to see the error of your ways.”

 

Severus shrank back against the chair, momentarily cowed. “You...surely….you are not here to punish me?”

 

“No, Severus. Judgement is not for me to bestow upon you.  Just think of me as a friendly messenger with a familiar face here to tell you what is to come, for there is yet some hope for you in the years of life that remain yours to live, one that I greatly hope you will take in order to be free of the eternal misery of walking this earth under the weight of your life’s sins.”

 

Severus felt a stab of familiarity in the words, as he remembered the moment he’d defected to meet Dumbledore and pledge his allegiance to the Order.

 

“My time grows short, Severus. Please...let me explain what is to happen.” Albus seemed to flicker for a moment, almost as though he were about to go out like a candle.

 

“Well, then, don’t be flowery about it. Get to the point and tell me what I need to know.” Severus grumbled, but his eyes were focused on the ghost before him as Albus stood with great effort, gesturing to Severus with an outstretched hand.

 

“You will be visited by three spirits tonight, Severus Snape.  The first spirit shall guide you through your past, the next the present day and the last...will provide you with shadows of what may be yet to come.  Each will be heralded by the chiming of the grandfather clock on each hour, beginning with the stroke of midnight.” Albus’ voice was commanding, now, and Severus stood frozen at attention, a creeping sensation running up his spine as the apparition continued to speak. “I sincerely hope that their visits will be met with less...scrutiny and wisecracking than what I have endured here tonight.  Look upon me, Severus, and know that even with all the good that I had done in life, my chains are still heavy enough to make the soul ache with eternal weariness. You must ask yourself how large your chains will be, for I can see them hanging from your soul, though you cannot, and they are ten times more massive than mine are.”

 

Severus paled. “You’re joking.”

 

“It is unfortunate that I am not,” Albus replied sadly.  “I do have a bit of good news, though.”

 

“And that is?” Severus asked dubiously.

 

“You shall not see me again after this, a relief I am sure, as far as you are concerned,” Albus replied, laughing jovially as he reattached his ghostly arm. “I have others that I must visit and offer my counsel to in this world, for this is part of my penance for the wrongs I have committed.” With a wink, he turned towards the fireplace, pulling something black that glittered like stardust from his ghostly pocket.

 

“Wait...sir...I….”

“It’s fine, Severus, I don’t expect you to apologize,” Albus replied, holding up a transparent hand. “But  do try to be on your best behavior. I daresay that many of the spirits do not understand your particular sense of humor, and i would hate for you to doom yourself for all of eternity simply because you couldn’t stop yourself from making some sort of insulting quip.”

 

“Point taken, sir,” Severus replied, deadpan.

 

“Farewell, Severus. May you find happiness on Earth in the time you have left to you.” Dumbledore threw the powder in the grate and the fire went black and starry as well. “Good luck!”

 

He waved and stepped into the fire without a word, his body disappearing instantly. In less than a moment, it was over, and the fire burned a cheery yellowish glare around the small room.

 

Severus stood stiffly, finding that, despite the dire warnings he’d received, he had grown unbelievably tired in a short period of time.  And so, though he was uneasy about all that Albus had told him, it was with very little effort that he found himself falling into a deep and dreamless sleep.


	3. Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, everyone! :)

 

Severus awoke with a start and he sat bolt upright in his bed with such force that his night cap whipped forward over one eye and he had to pull it back with a wince.  Bells chimed merrily in the distance, but they were different than the bells he’d heard earlier- these sounded cheerful and melodious, almost as though they were playing a little tune that Severus had heard many years ago but had long forgotten.  

 

A bright light reflected against the large, thick, glass window that looked out into the depths of the Black Lake, and Severus looked in the opposite direction for the source of the light only to find himself turning his head back with shock as a small, fluttering figure emerged through the glass as though it were thin air.

 

“Hello, Sev,” the apparition said softly, “I am the ghost of Christmas past.”

 

Her eyes were green as spring, but, though her face was so youthful that she nearly looked as young as she had been when he’d first seen her do magic, her hair was as white as new-fallen snow.  Atop her head was a crown of leaves, all of them glittering so brightly that they seemed to be on fire.

 

“L...ily…” He choked out the name, his heart lodged in his throat.

 

“I merely show you what you wish to see- a face from your past,” the spirit said, her childlike voice sweet. “Now, then, we haven’t much time.  Please, we must go, for there isn’t much time.”

 

The spirit began to float towards the glass again and Severus stood, following her awkwardly.

 

“I cannot go through the glass,” he said plaintive, “It will flood the dungeons and I will drown if I can’t get a Bubblehead charm over my head quickly enough.  Besides, the water is so cold that it’s liable to have frozen over at the surface.  No matter what I do, I’ll surely drown or die of hypothermia, especially if I go wearing this pitiful attire.”

 

“Oh, Sev, don’t you think I’ve thought of all that?” The spirit smiled, extending her pale, nearly translucent hand. “Take my hand and you will have nothing to fear.”

 

Severus reached out, expecting the discomfort and freezing cold of having a ghost pass through his corporeal form, but instead, he felt a soft warmth that filled him with an almost giddy lightness of being.  She pulled him along as though he weighed less than nothing and he found himself floating through glass and into the water as though he were a spirit himself.  The water was not cold against his skin and he found, to his great relief, that he could breathe quite well. 

 

He blinked and suddenly, they were no longer in the water at all, but standing near a small schoolhouse that had obviously seen better days.  The belltower was leaning at an odd angle and at least one or two of the windows was cracked or broken and taped over.

A boy stood in the cold, his mismatched clothing and greasy hair marking him as poor and unloved in ways that the other students were not.  The others clumped in groups- talking, laughing, exchanging small Christmas gifts. 

 

“Do you know this child?” the spirit asked, drawing them closer.

 

Severus rubbed his eyes, his lips puckered with disbelief. “Why, that’s- but no, it couldn’t be!”

 

“These are merely shadows of what has happened already. You may move freely as you wish,” the spirit remarked, as Severus stepped forward and tried to wrap his arms around the young version of himself- a boy with long, black hair that fell over his eyes, whose nose was a bright red at the tip, and who looked as though he’d been crying.

 

“My Mum said she’d fetch me from school, but my Da had hit her and she fell down the stairs.  Her leg was broken. She had to wait until he’d gone to the pub to drag herself back up the stairs and get her wand so she could fix it. He’d forgotten he’d done it by the time he got home.  Afterwards, she never did walk completely straight again.” Severus said this with a flat, cold voice, as though he’d recited the sorrowful tale more than once.  They watched as the other children faded away and the boy stood under a streetlamp, shivering, the cold stars winking thoughtlessly above him. “I walked home, eventually. My father hit me with his belt until I bled for ‘embarrassing’ him. I still don’t know, exactly, what he meant by those words, but I still have the scars on my back.”

 

“Let us move a bit forward in time,” the spirit said, taking his hand again.

 

The snow blew up and blinded Severus temporarily and when he blinked again, they were standing outside a familiar Hogwarts classroom.  Severus stared in wonder at the scene, which included a number of young teenagers stirring bubbling caldrons.  Most had been bottled, and Severus strode forward, looming over a desk where a young version of himself was chatting animatedly with a girl his own age, her green eyes sparkling mischievously.

 

“Will you come with me, then, Lily?” The young Severus was saying excitedly.

 

“Of course, Sev, but you have to save a dance for me!” Lily replied with a laugh.

 

The younger version of himself frowned. “I’m not much of a dancer, you know.”

 

“That doesn’t matter. As long as you’re with me, we’ll have fun, won’t we?” Lily gave him the puppy-dog eyes that he couldn’t say no to and he finally nodded, even though he didn’t look particularly happy about it.

 

“Come, now, class!” A young Slughorn beamed to his Potions students. “Finish bottling up your concoctions and leave them up on the desk at the front! Since all of you are in the Slug Club, you will know that tonight is my annual Christmas party, so come ready to cut a rug and enjoy some wonderful treats!”

 

The students did as they were told and as Severus spared one lingering glance of longing towards his younger self and his only best friend in the world, the spirit tapped Severus on the shoulder, turning him around to see another scene rise up out of the darkness.  

 

Slughorn had truly outdone himself at his party. There was a live band playing folk versions of Christmas songs with bagpipe, flute, fiddle, and pennywhistle, along with a singer who looked as though she must have been half fae herself, with her pointed ears and somewhat unnaturally large, violet eyes.

 

Multicolored Wizarding Crackers were set up at every place at the table, and garland was strewn about the walls, twinkling merrily in the candlelight.  The music was light and full of cheer, and even Severus found himself tapping his slippered foot in time.

 

“Oh, I remember this party!” Severus said, “I was in the Slug Club- most of the upper-division Potions students were, and old Slughorn, Merlin rest his soul for he died last May, always had the best parties.”

 

Severus stared hungrily at the happy scene unfolding before him as though trying to absorb each moment. The spirit took his hand and led him to a corner, where LIly was sitting next to a somewhat sour-looking younger version of Severus and doing her best to convince him to dance with her.

 

“It’ll be fun, Sev! Come on!” Lily pouted slightly, her lower lip sticking out.

 

“Fine, but I don’t have to like it,” Severus grumbled back, taking her hand and letting her lead him out onto the floor.  Slughorn was leading the dance with a much younger version of Professor Sprout, whose chubby cheeks were flushed with happiness and firewhiskey.  They twirled and skipped, until the music shifted and everyone formed a line on either side, clapping as Slughorn and Sprout started down the narrow passageway created by human bodies and taking their places at the end, clapping as the next couple began their dance.  The younger version of Severus and Lily were third in line and Lily was obviously the one leading the dance as young Severus tripped slightly at one point and she pulled him against her to steady him.  By the time they reached the end and began clapping for the next couple, young Severus was blushing scarlet, his eyes never leaving Lily as she laughed and watched the couple coming down towards the end of the dancing space.

 

“We’d promised to spend the summer together,” Severus said, sadly to the spirit, “I was beginning to think that she felt the same way that I did...and then…”

 

The scene changed to one that Severus knew depressingly well- the moment he’d called Lily a Mudblood.  It unfolded as it usually did, but this time, he saw Lily’s tears as she’d stormed off and the expression on her face, like her heart was breaking in half.  It wasn’t just that he’d hurt her, he realized, but that he’d forced her to make a decision that she’d never wanted to make.

 

“Please, let us leave this place,” Severus said, his high spirits fading quickly.

 

“There is but one more scene for us to see,” the spirit said softly, and Severus’ heart sank.

 

He knew what it would be, even before the scene had materialized completely.

 

“James thinks I’m mad,” Lily said, sitting on the park bench next to a somewhat-older-looking Snape.

 

“I was nineteen,” Severus said morosely. “I thought I had accomplished exactly what I needed to succeed in life.  The Dark Arts- they were a means to an end, but it was only when I finally got in too deep that I realized that it wasn’t what I wanted at all.”

 

“Sev,” Lily was saying. “Please...look at me…”

 

“Why? Why would I want to look at you, Lily? Everytime I glance at you, I have to see what...that  _ bully _ ...did to you.”

 

Lily’s hands covered her abdomen, which had begun to swell with her pregnancy in a protective manner. “He isn’t a bully any longer, Sev. He put it behind him and decided to become a good man and husband.  That’s why I came here.  I know...what you said back then, in school, but it’s Christmas, and I think that even someone like yourself deserves a chance for forgiveness. I was being childish, Sev, and I want to mend things.”

 

“ _ Mend _ things?” The younger Severus stood, his eyes flashing with fury, “You smashed my heart to pieces with your thoughtless words and now you want to come back and mend things? You have your perfect life with your perfect husband and soon-to-be perfect little  _ spawn _ ! And you come to me speaking of forgiveness?! No, I think not. You only come here to torture me with your happiness, to rub in my face that which you have that shall never be mine!  I should have known that you would never have come unless you wished to cause me more pain, and it was only stupid sentimentality that convinced me to allow you the chance to prove my assumptions wrong!”

 

“Sev, I-” Lily reached out to touch his shoulder but he flinched away and stood, crossing his arms.

 

“I would never willingly hurt you, Lily, and I would do anything to make sure that you were safe and happy, even if it is not with me,” the younger Severus said, his eyes cold as ice, “but I cannot smile and be happy for you. I cannot pretend to be glad that you have found a life, built a family, especially not with  _ Potter _ .  You are asking something impossible, and so I implore you to leave before I say something else that I regret.”

 

With that, he turned his back on her, his fists balled tightly at his sides, waiting for Lily to say something. 

 

But she never did.  

 

Instead, she pressed her lips in a firm line, her eyes were full of righteous anger as she stood and stomped a short ways off before Disapparating.

 

“That was the last time we ever spoke before...before…” Severus turned away from the young version of himself, who was already slumping with grief. “Please. Spirit, take me away from here...I cannot bear it for a moment longer.”

 

The spirit laid a soft hand on Severus’ shoulder and led him through the sky, but Severus could not see anything clearly through the tears that had begun to pool in his eyes, distorting his sight as he floated, weightless, in the darkness.


	4. Part 4

Severus was falling all of a sudden, and he groped blindly for the spirit’s hand, finding nothing but the thick and rather substantial cloth of-

 

“My duvet!” he cried out in a suspiciously joyful tone of voice, rubbing his tear-blurred eyes as he slid from his mattress onto the cold stone floor with an echoing thud; then, “Ow!”

 

Severus sat up and leaned against the mattress feeling somewhat disoriented.  A strange sensation had begun to bloom in his chest. It was where he supposed his cold and ill-used heart must be located, for he surely would be unable to survive without its pitiful beat.

 

Just as he was about to pull himself up from the floor, the fireplace roared to life with a greenish, golden light and a hearty voice boomed through the floo connection with a strangely familiar timbre.

 

“Come through, good man! Come through!”

 

Severus pulled himself to his feet, his legs wobbling just a bit.  He did not wish to go through the green flames, especially in this state of undress. It wouldn’t be proper-

 

But before he could even bring himself to finish the thought, a massive hand shot through the flames and grabbed Severus by the foot as easily as if he weighed nothing at all.

 

Severus was not proud of the shriek of terror that escaped his lips, but he couldn’t help it.  His eyes were momentarily lit up in a blaze of green and he swirled around in the green flames for a dizzying moment before being deposited, in a significantly more sooty state, on a very familiar and incredibly tasteless rainbow rug.

 

“The Headmaster’s quarters?” he asked, his eyes wide in shock as he looked around the room, which, as far as he knew, was supposed to be a cluttered junk room full of garish items that Albus had left behind to Severus in his will (the bastard!).

 

But the room wasn’t filled with clutter and dust any longer. A roaring fire heated the room, casting merry shadows on the wall so that it seemed that they were dancing to some as-yet unheard music. The walls were hung with thick garlands made of evergreen boughs, with tinsel and ornaments running up and down them, as was the massive tree that nearly kissed the ceiling in the corner, which boasted real floating candles and charmed ornaments that moved as though they were alive.  The presents under the tree were a veritable mountain and Severus could hardly believe that all of them could fit underneath.  

 

“Undetectable Extension Charm, you know,” said the booming voice from before, and Severus turned, his mouth hanging open in shock.  A giant man, nearly as tall as the tree, and just a bit wider than it, sat behind a massive table filled to the brim with all manner of rich and delicious food. Steam still rose off of the turkey, the goose, the ham, the duck and the stuffing, which was as plump and as flavorful as Severus had ever smelled in his life. HIs mouth watered as he cast his eyes down the table, seeing puddings of all different types, both savory and sweet. Then came a horn full of fruit that looked as fresh and as ripe as he’d ever seen on any table. There were sweets, of course, and drinks laid out in pitchers and carafes and bottles of all shapes and sizes.  It was a feast of feasts- a feast to end all feasts, and as Severus stood there, the man, no...the _spirit_ , for though he seemed substantial as any living being, there was something about the eyes that twinkled merrily down upon Severus that made him think that they had seen more than was possible in a thousand lifetimes.

 

“Welcome, Severus Snape,” the spirit boomed jovially, his belly jiggling like a bowl full of jelly, and Severus momentarily wondered if Santa himself would be impressed. “I am the Ghost of Christmas Present.”

 

“You remind me of another man of large stature who is fond of speaking so loudly,” Severus said, wincing as he stuck his finger in his ear to help clear out the ringing in it.

 

“Ah, a brother of mine, perhaps?” The spirit laughed heartily at this, and Severus winced again.

 

“No. His hair and beard are black, not blazing red like yours. But you seem a reasonable fellow, so I beg of you...please, Spirit, hear my plea.” Severus tried to look as repentant as he could, if only to avoid having to be sent out into cold world for more unsettling scenes to unsettle his heart and mind.  It was bad enough that he’d already cried (and during the visit of the first Spirit, too), but he was sure that he would likely go deaf if he did not find some way to escape the clutches of this second spirit. “As you well know, I have been visited by the Ghost of Christmas Past. And, after seeing the terrible things I have done in the past, I believe that I have learned my lesson. In fact, I would love to save you and your cohort to come the time and simply-”

 

“You don’t wish to waste any time? Good man, good man!” The spirit laughed and clapped Snape on the back until he nearly fell face first into a mince pie. “Come then, let us ride in style!”

 

The spirit picked Severus up, again as though he were nothing at all, and sat him up on his shoulders like a child.

 

“Here we goooooo!” The giant charged through the hearth with a hearty whoop, and Severus ducked down just in time to miss being knocked out by the top of the stone mantle.

 

“You crazy idiot!” Severus shouted over the roaring flames as glimpses of fireplaces rose and receded from view. “You have to shout your destination before jumping into the floo network!”

 

But the spirit either hadn’t heard or had decided not to dignify it with an answer, and within moments, they flew feet first through a small hearth that was barely wide enough to fit Severus’ slight frame, so he has no idea how the spirit had managed.

 

“It’s magic, Severus,” the spirit said with a hearty laugh, which disturbed Severus all the more because he began to have the creeping sensation that the spirit could somehow read his mind without his permission, “Now, then, let’s take a look here, shall we? After all, you should see some familiar faces.”

 

Severus looked around the somewhat shabby home with a bit of confusion.  “You say that I know these people?”

 

But as he looked more closely, he began to have the oddest feeling of deja vu. It was only when a plump older woman rushed past, her face flushed with irritation, that he realized exactly where he was.

 

“George! You and your brother need to get down here right away!” Molly Weasley screeched up the narrow stairwell, her hands on her hips.

 

“Coming, Mum!” A pair of muffled voices chorused from upstairs.

 

“Hmph, of all the things!” Molly huffed as she stomped back to the kitchen.  Severus, intrigued, followed her, the spirit trailing behind him with a jolly smile on his bearded face.  The kitchen and dining room had been magically enlarged to feature a long table, at which sat a number of mismatched chairs and a couple of hastily transfigured sofas.  The plates and silverware too all looked as though they were from at least ten different sets. An older boy with hair the color of a bluebird’s feathers busied himself with setting the tables, all the while sneaking a few olives from the small plates set out on the table.

 

“Teddy!” Molly’s stern voice made both Severus and Teddy jump nearly a foot in the air.  He hadn’t seen the woman come back into the room.  She’d be a right terror patrolling the hallways of Hogwarts. “I told you that those olives were for Christmas supper!”

 

“I could take ‘em out my mouf,” Teddy said with his mouth full, sticking out his tongue, which had pieces of bitten up olive piled up on it.

 

“Ugh! You swallow those olives, young man! Food ought not to be wasted, especially in these lean times!” Molly admonished, shaking a dish towel at Teddy.

 

The boy, whose collars were so large and raised up so high that Severus guessed that they must have been hand-me-downs many times over, ducked his head down and gulped theatrically, making a huge show of swallowing until Molly smiled and shook her head.

 

“Can I go up and play with the others, Gran?” Teddy asked. “I finished setting the table!”

 

“Go on, then,” Molly said, her smile weary.

Severus turned as the door banged open to reveal a very rosy-faced Arthur Weasley, his hair streaked with so much gray and bits of snow that it was nearly colorless.

 

“Brrrr!” he exclaimed, hugging himself, “It’s a cold one out there, it is! Could freeze the nads off a garden gnome!”

 

“ _Arthur_!” Molly tried to look scandalized, but she ended up giggling and ruining the entire show of sternness. Arthur wrapped his arms around her and kissed her nose, making her squeak like a witch half her age. “Oooh, you brute! You’re just doing this to steal my warmth!”

 

“Guilty as charged,” Arthur said, smirking, “but _this_ is just because I want to.”  

 

Severus looked away, embarrassed, as Arthur gave Molly’s bum a squeeze.  

 

“You do realize that this is blatant voyeurism, don’t you?” he grumbled at the spirit. “If we were caught, we’d get sent to Azkaban for a year!”

 

“Patience, Severus, you will see,” the giant said with a knowing smile.

 

The door banged open again and a procession of various familiar faces poured in. There was Charlie Weasley, who had a tiny fire lizard named Clarice wrapped around his shoulders like a scarf.

 

“She thinks I’m her mum,” he explained. “So she goes where I do.”

 

Severus made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat as Charlie kissed the creature right on the snout and it made an adorable chirping noise; nuzzling against Charlie’s nose happily.

 

Bill and Fleur Weasley came through the door with several large baskets laden with presents and wrapped plates of Christmas cookies.  Their daughters were holding a poinsettia plant apiece, which Molly ooh-ed and ahh-ed over, placing them up on the somewhat barren-looking table in an attempt to make it more festive. This, of course, made the girls glow with the praise from having been so careful with the delicate plants.

 

Next was Percy Weasley, who brought his wife and daughters, all three of whom had fat, rounded faces and slightly upturned noses.  Percy was obviously very besotted with them, though Severus couldn’t see the appeal.  They brought still more packages and food items that were enlarged and levitated to the kitchen by a very excited Molly Weasley, who might have been hovering off the ground by sheer Christmas spirit alone.

 

By that time, a gaggle of children had raced down the stairs, followed by George Weasley, Ron Weasley, and Ginny Weasley, who all wore identical looks of imminent mischief.

 

“Oh no you don’t!” Molly shooed them out of the kitchen, brandishing the dish towel like a whip. “You go get the children washed up for the meal! Hermione and Mortimer will be back any moment!”  

 

There was a fervent rush for the tiny bathrooms in the Burrow as hands were washed and mostly dried off, and the stampede to the table began in earnest.  

 

“Not you, Ginny!” Harry said, the mischievous look on his face setting off alarm bells in Severus’ head. “You hide in the kitchen, like we discussed.”

 

A couple of the children who were old enough to understand giggled and most of them had settled down but had to cover their mouths and giggle silently as the door opened and Hermione stepped through the door with a little boy up on her shoulders.

 

He was much smaller and paler than the older boy and the girl who sat at the table next to their father, and whose bushy curls were a dead giveaway of their parentage. Mortimer breathed heavily, his body encased in a strange, shell-like cage festooned with runic shapes that glowed softly in the cozy light of the Burrow.  He wore a cap on his head, which pushed down the honey-brown curls of his hair around his ears.  The hair was the healthiest part of him, however, and as Hermione helped him down, he could tell that the child’s legs were slightly bowed and he needed a tiny crutch to help him move more easily.

 

Rather than looking pathetic, however, the boy scuttled along with such vitality, that Severus nearly let out a cry of surprise.  Though he’d obviously been given the short end of the stick as far as health was concerned, the boy was more adamant and full of drive than anyone Severus had ever seen.

 

“Hello everyone!” Hermione waved, her eyes growing slightly sad when they passed over Ron, who was picking up Mortimer and giving him kisses all over his little, pale face. “We were just at the memorial together, and it was simply beautiful in the snow.  We kept the strongest Warming charm up, but even so, our noses got a bit frostbitten.”

 

“And how was our Tim, then?” Molly asked, tucking her washcloth into the pocket of her apron.

 

“Oh, good as gold.  Better, even,” Hermione said, looking at her son wistfully. “He was the one who came up with the idea to place flower wreaths on all of the memorial statues. He said that he wanted them to know the brightness and color of summer even through the darkest, coldest winter’s night.  He’s so full of light and energy, despite...everything.”

 

Hermione seemed to deflate at that last word, and as Severus watched, he noticed how Ron’s eyes were increasingly sad and slightly full of disgust as his son pulled himself up onto his lap.

 

“It’s not that Ron doesn’t love Tim, he just...he blames me for it all,” Hermione said softly, and Molly patted her on the shoulder.

 

“Don’t you worry your head about any of it. Why, with the new treatment, he’ll be right as rain in no time!” Molly said with a gentle smile.

 

“If we can afford it...especially with the Headmaster the way he is…” Hermione trailed off, looking miserable.

 

Molly, on the other hand, looked utterly furious.

 

“Hmph!” Molly exclaimed. “He’s no headmaster! His bullying and stinginess would make him better suited for working with goblins!”

 

“Hey, Mum!” Bill protested with a smile on his scarred face. “I happen to know some far better behaved goblins, thank you very much!”

 

Everyone, even Hermione, laughed at this.

 

“So, Harry, was Ginny able to get time off of traveling the world with the Harpies to see us for Christmas?” Hermione asked.

 

Harry did his best to look utterly crushed. “No. Unfortunately, they’re working her to the bone for the next match in India.”

 

Hermione gave him a sympathetic look and looked rather sad for him, which didn’t last long, as George was practically howling with laughter into his napkin and Ron’s ears had gone rather pink at the effort it was taking to keep him from dissolving into giggles.  The children were a dead-giveaway, though as many of them had begun snickering loudly and were stealing rather undisguised looks at the kitchen door.

 

“SURPRISE!” Ginny shouted, bursting through the door, and Hermione shook her head and smiled as Ginny hugged her tightly. “We thought you needed a little prank to brighten your mood.”

 

“Oh, I know I’m being silly,” Hermione said, sniffling a bit, “I’m just happy you and Harry can…” The rest of her words were masked by loud sniffles, and Ginny went from being hugged to patting Hermione on the back sympathetically.  

 

Molly handed over a cloth napkin and Hermione went to her seat muttering “I’m just being silly, don’t worry about me…”

 

Hermione sat on the other side of her children, and Severus noticed that she was doing her best not to stare at a vacant place next to Ron.  He found out the reason for this in a few moments, when a knock on the door sounded and Molly came back to the table with a smiling Cho Chang, who was in the process of pulling off her gloves and placing them in her jacket pocket.

 

“Come now, dear. Ron told us that you’d be a bit late, but I’ve set you up next to him, here,” Molly said, ushering the young woman over to her spot.  Cho sat down and waved at Harry, who waved back somewhat awkwardly, and Molly dashed back into the kitchen to bring out the food.

 

“Surely she doesn’t intend to feed the whole family on that paltry thing,” Severus said to the spirit, looking at the somewhat pathetic-sized roasted goose that had been brought out on a tarnished platter.  But, somehow, as it was passed around the table, it became evident that there would be a bit of meat for all.  Tim got a choice bit of breast that Molly had set aside for him especially.

 

“For your strength,” Molly chided, not accepting his protests to give it to his father or his uncle, both of whom were eying it hungrily. There was a basket of biscuits, stuffing and quite a bit of other food, but it still paled in comparison to how many mouths there were to feed. In the end, not a scrap remained, and everyone put on a show of how full they were and how they could not eat another bite, thank _you_ very _much_.

 

Severus could see how the lie didn’t quite reach the eyes of the adults as the children blithely took meager seconds and complained that they wanted to be let go from the table to play.

 

“Not before we have the pudding!” Molly said exasperatedly. “Ron, you and George go and get it!”

 

The children’s desire to leave the table vanished abruptly as cries of “Pudding! Pudding! Pudding!” echoed through the room and they clanged their silverware on the table, making a terrible racket.

 

It was then that Harry and GInny, in a bid to create suspense, started wondering aloud to one another (with a number of very obvious winks at each other, Severus noted), about how terrible it would be if the pudding were to have been stolen by garden gnomes or eaten by the ghoul in the attic.  The children’s cries became more fervent after that, and by the time Ron and George returned with the pudding, a resounding cheer filled the room, everyone excited to see how well it had turned out.

 

It was, blessedly, perfect.

 

Even Severus let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding.

 

“I still don’t see why you’re having me watch all of this,” he said, finally, to the spirit, though his tone of voice lacked the bite that he’d intended to include.

 

“These are but shadows, Severus, but they are important and must be seen,” the spirit replied with a smile, and Severus was suddenly struck by the stark white hairs that had appeared in the spirit’s beard and hair.  Even his eyes crinkled with more wrinkles than had been there before, and Severus began to grow somewhat alarmed.

 

“Are you well, spirit?” he asked, realizing that he actually did feel sympathy for the being that he had not met more than a half-hour earlier.

 

“My time is both limited and infinite in ways that yours is not,” the spirit replied cryptically, his voice much weaker than ever before. “Come, then, let us follow them to the back room.”

 

Severus was familiar with the room in the back, which held another fireplace and a somewhat shabby looking Christmas tree.  The presents were small and wrapped in what looked like twice-reused wrapping paper, but the room was filled with cheer, and the adults played charades, wizard’s chess and talked while the children raced up and down the stairs, playing tag, except for Tim, who sat by the fire in a small wooden rocking chair that looked as though it had been handmade for his special shape and stature.

 

Severus was surprised to hear his own name and turned to see that Harry, Ginny, Ron, George, Bill and Hermione were talking rather animatedly.

 

“Well, he _did_ save my life a number of times!” Harry was saying, but Ginny and Ron had their faces screwed up in twin expressions of disgust as they shook their heads.

 

“Just because he did some good doesn’t mean he’s a good person, mate,” Ron said. “I keep telling Hermione she has to quit working for that awful place. I mean, Cho has offered-”  


“I’ve told you time and time again, Ronald! I don’t want your….or _her_ sympathy!” Hermione exclaimed, taking a quick glance around the room to make sure that Cho wasn’t in listening range. “Sure, the Headmaster can be strict and have an unpleasant manner about him, but he explains the reasons why he does what he does, and I can’t fault him for his logic.”

 

“Oh, and was it _logic_ that made you cry the other day, then?” Harry asked. “Draco told me all about it when he came to pick Scorpius up from the house.”

 

“It...it wasn’t...come on guys, it’s Christmas,” Hermione entreated, her voice softening. “Think of Tim and the other children.”

 

“Well, I still say that it would have been far better if he’d died on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, let me tell you!” Ginny said venomously. “Or, at least, had the good sense not to recover the way he did.”

 

“Ginny, the children!” Hermione hissed as a group of children marched through the doors in a makeshift parade, complete with pots for drums and penny whistles that shrieked something awful.  Tim clapped heartily but then set to coughing horribly and Hermione had to go to him, spooning out a dose of potion that Severus thought he recognized.

 

Then it was time for presents, which the children gleefully opened, though all of them were very careful to save as much of the paper as possible so that it could be folded and reused again.  The spectre of Snape and the general consensus that the world was better off without him still hung about the adults as they watched the joy on their children’s faces, and Severus himself began to feel a heavy heart to see others speak so candidly about the very things he thought of himself in his darkest moments.

 

And then, tiny Tim began to sing, and though his voice wobbled just a bit at the beginning, his version of _O Holy Night_ was enough to send shivers down Severus’ spine.  Though he knew the song wasn’t exactly a traditional wizarding carol, Severus knew that Hermione had been muggleborn, and it was entirely probable that she’d taught him the lovely song. Then, the rest of them began to sing a _We Wish You A Merry Christmas_ in a round, and the room filled with song.  For some reason, this made Severus wonder about Hermione’s singing voice, but before he could find out, the spirit had taken him by the shoulder.

 

“Tell me that Tim will be fine,” Severus said, his voice cracking slightly. “I mean, he will be, right?”

 

“There isn’t much that I can tell you, for they are far more the territory of the future, but I will tell you this. If these shadows remain unchanged and your cruelty reigns unabated, there may soon be an empty crutch by the fire without a boy to use it.”

 

Severus flinched at this. “But surely...surely, I cannot do anything to change his fate! Tell me, spirit. Tell me that his blood is not on my hands...I couldn’t...couldn’t bear-”

 

“There is one more place I wish for you to see,” the spirit said tiredly, and Severus wondered at how the white in his beard was now nearly overtaking the red. The spirit’s giant body had begun to stoop over, and Severus could see little spots of age on the spirit’s hands and face.

 

Though none of the others in the room seemed to notice the roaring green flames, which was something that Severus was becoming accustomed to, they stepped into the floo again, and were whisked into quite a different looking room.

 

Here, too, it was Christmas, that was for certain.  The cosily lit room was tastefully decorated with silvery ornaments and garland, and an elegant piano sat in one corner, though in the flickering candle and firelight, it was hard to see any fine details. The windows were fogged up and the room was filled with a number of very familiar faces.

 

“They’re all former students of Slytherin House,” Severus said, surprised. “Well..except for that one girl, over there. I think she was in Hufflepuff, but it’s been ages.”

 

It was then that Severus saw Draco, who was sitting next to his wife, Astoria Malfoy.

 

“...but did you have to invite Snape, Draco?” Pansy was saying, her pug-like nose held high in the air.

 

“Yeah, he’s an unpleasant git if ever there was one,” Blaise chimed in. “Not that, you know, I would want any of you repeating that information to him.”

 

“Don’t worry, Blaise, your secret is safe with me,” Draco said with a grin. “I knew he wouldn’t come, stubborn, miserly man that he is, but in the spirit of Christmas, I decided that there were two outcomes- the first being that my godfather actually develops some measure of Christmas spirit and we enjoy his company, or, barring that, we all get a quiet evening without a hint of his presence as my mere invitation has sent him running for the hills.  As far as I’m concerned, it’s truly a win-win situation!”

 

The room filled with a roar of laughter at this, and many appeared to be nodding their heads.

 

Rather than feel anger, Severus began to fill with a sense of shame and understanding that he’d never really allowed himself to feel before.  They were right, really. And, though he knew that he should revert to the safety of blaming everyone else for his problems, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.  He’d never been able to hide the truth from himself once he knew of it. It was what had gotten him into so much trouble in the first place, really.  But, regardless of his ego’s desire to bury his head in the sand, Severus knew that he could no more do that than he could give up magic forever.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen...oh, and hot sexy minx of a wife,” Draco said, raising a wineglass and winking at his wife a bit roguishly, “Since my parents have so graciously provided us an evening sans offspring, I propose that a toast is in order. Blaise, would you like to make it?  You are, after all, living the glamorous bachelor lifestyle.”

 

“Oi, Draco, don’t joke about things like that!” Blaise said, winking at a plump girl who appeared to be related to Astoria in some way- perhaps a sister or cousin, for her nose and freckles were nearly identical. “I can tell you right this minute that a bachelor is the sorriest creature on the face of the planet, may Merlin rest my soul.”  

 

The plump girl giggled from behind a fan that was more for show than to keep her cool, which led to Blaise attempting to send a coded message by eyebrow twitch, and was so embarrassingly obvious to everyone in the room that Severus nearly blushed with shame for the poor man.

 

“Just toast already!” came the cry from the assembled group, after a time.

 

“Fine! To new beginnings! To ending bachelor- _doom_! To Christmas!” Blaise cried.

 

“Here! Here!” everyone cried out, emptying their glasses.

 

They played a couple of Christmas games, the first being a version of Blind Wizard’s Buff in which Blaise insisted on being It, and using his status to shamelessly chase the plump woman across the room, even when others comically attempted to throw themselves in the way.  By the end, they had to stop playing after Blaise had grabbed her a full five times and it was obvious that no one else would be spared the blatant nature of his attraction unless they switched to something else.

 

“I know! Let’s play at questions!” Draco cried out. “I’ve got a hard one and I bet you lot would never guess it!”

 

Severus sniffed.  It was a childish game, if ever there was one.  Was he truly supposed to be learning something? Other than having been forced to view a set of courtship behaviors that one should never engage in under any circumstances, he couldn’t quite see the point. He did have to admit that he was a bit curious, though.  What, exactly, would Draco have come up with that was so impossible to guess.

 

“Is it a vegetable?” Blaise asked.

 

“No, but some might say it would be better as one,” Draco said with a snicker.

 

“Is it an animal?” Astoria asked.

 

“Yes!” Draco said, looking highly amused at this.

 

“Is it a pet?” another woman asked.

 

“Not really,” Draco said, snorting with laughter.

 

After about twenty minutes, they had narrowed it down to a rather disagreeable animal that lived somewhere in the Wizarding World, and was not wild or a pet or a magical creature or housed in a zoo, or led around on a leash or eaten for supper or a cat, or a bat, or a rat, or a lion, or a goose or a bear.

 

By this point, Draco was nearly in stitches and could barely let out a “yes” or “no” at each question.

 

“I have got it!” The plump woman cried out suddenly.  

 

“Oh?! Do tell! Do tell!” Blaise let out an exaggerated cry of excitement and nearly jumped in her lap.

 

“It’s your godfather! Headmaster of Hogwarts….Severus Snape!”

 

“YOU GOT IT!” Draco shouted.

 

Everyone was silent for a moment before breaking out into such a hearty roar of laughter that Severus was surprised that the house hadn’t begun to shake on its foundation.

 

Once everyone had calmed down a bit, Severus noticed that a heated argument had broken out about whether or not “a bat” ought to have counted, but before he could get closer and hear what else they were saying, he felt the the pressure of the spirit’s hand engulfing his shoulder.  He looked at the raised tendons and wrinkled, loose skin, turning back slowly to see that the great giant’s beard and hair was completely snow-white, and his face was so still that Severus thought that the spirit had ceased to move at all.  But then, with a soft whisper of a voice, the spirit spoke.

 

“Come,” came the whisper, and Severus turned, moving in front of the lagging spirit’s body and faced the fireplace.

 

Instead of the cheery green in the fireplace, he was met with a misty gray wall of flame that poured out and pulled at his ankles like a living thing.

 

“The present cannot be for long,” the spirit whispered, looking more weary than ever. “It becomes the past as quickly as it becomes the future, which is where you must go.  I cannot follow you far, Severus. For that I am sorry.”

 

As Severus turned back to ask the spirit what he meant by his cryptic words, the massive giant’s hands took hold of his back and pushed him, _hard_ , into the smoky flames.

 

And then, there was only darkness.


	5. Part 5

****Severus stumbled through the thickening fog like a blind man. He could see large, still shapes looming in the distance, but beyond that, he had absolutely no idea where he was. He cursed himself for having dropped his wand when the second spirit had pulled him through the fireplace, but he also knew that there was no sense in whinging about the unfairness of life, especially not when he knew he'd doled out more unfairness to those around him to last a lifetime.

 

He jumped as a large tower clock tolled twice, and his head turned towards the source of the noise to find the yellow backlit face of the clock hanging in the frigid darkness like an artificial full moon.

 

Severus shivered, his arms instinctively pulling round his thin frame in an attempt to fight the chill. It did little to assuage his suffering, though, and soon his teeth were chattering terribly.

 

He turned violently around as a figure, impossibly tall and enshrouded in mist, suddenly appeared behind him, and Snape found himself stifling a cry of terror. Misery and a horrible, aching numbness filled his chest until he found it hard to breathe.

 

It was a dementor.

 

He fled. Stumbling and falling onto uneven stone, Severus ran with the single minded determination of a wizard without a wand being chased by a soul sucking fiend from hell.

 

Which, of course, he was.

 

But, no matter how far and how fast he ran, or how tightly he rolled himself into a ball under the thick, misty fog that rolled like a living thing up to his knees, whenever he turned around, the creature was behind him.

 

It extended a bony finger as Severus panted, his back pressed against an icy brick wall.

 

“Well?!” Severus screamed, nearly hysterical. “If you're going to suck out my soul, you'd better do it quickly before it freezes!”

 

Slowly, the shrouded head moved from side to side.

 

“ _No_?!” Severus yelled, his voice nearly as broken as he felt. “No?! Are you trying to tell me that I have no soul at all?! Surely my pain and suffering at seeing and understanding the wrong I have done has meant something to altering the course of my fate!”

 

The figure did not speak. Instead, it crooked its finger and bade Severus to follow it.

 

“Y...you...you’re the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, aren’t you?” Severus hated how his voice quivered, but there was nothing for it.

 

The figure nodded ever so slightly and Severus sagged with relief, even though he still felt frozen to the bone. Anything was better than the thought of coming so far only to be left a soulless husk...or worse…

 

Severus followed the spirit as it silently hovered over the misty smoke until it cleared ever so slightly and he found that the were suddenly in the heart of Diagon Alley, though he could not say how they had come to be there. Severus could see from the cheery displays in the windows that it was Christmas, but it was a Christmas that he soon realized he would not be seeing much of as the spirit led him around a corner into Knockturn Alley, which was quite poorly lit and dismally adorned with only the sparsest trimmings of holiday spirit. They lingered amongst a number of stalls, their stooped and many-layered owners standing about and rubbing their hands together over a rubbish bin that had been set ablaze, as their Warming charms seemed not to be doing nearly enough to mitigate the biting cold.

 

“So, ‘ave you ‘eard the news?” One man, with a large, bulbous nose that looked as though it was filled with snot, said to the others.

 

“Eh, I don’t know much about it either way. Alls I know is that ‘e’s dead, an’ that’s good enough reason to celebrate,” said a fat woman with a hairy wart on her forehead as she pulled out a bottle wrapped in brown paper.

 

The others murmured happily as drinks were poured for all, and a tall woman with broad shoulders spoke next. “Anyone know what’ll become of ‘is money?”

 

“Well, ‘e’s not left it to me, that’s for sure!” said a man with a massive chin that made him look almost comical.

 

This prompted a roar of laughter from the entire group, and Severus wondered exactly why the spirit would find such a scene to be important for him to view.  After all, this was the future, and it couldn’t be Dumbledore who they were speaking of, even though the man had most definitely _not_ been a friend to the denizens of Knockturn Alley. His death had long since faded into the past, for this was a future even further along than the present Severus resided within, and, other than the three objects left to Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, it was well-known that Dumbledore had left his remaining assets to Hogwarts, though few of them had any monetary value save the pensieve.

 

Severus looked around, wondering if he might see himself in some improved situation, perhaps providing jackets, mittens and hats to the homeless, his situation much changed from that which he’d accepted for so many years. Upon seeing no one fitting his likeness, Severus began to imagine that perhaps that his absence was a good sign- that he was far from this dismal place with its dismal, drunken people and their raucous laughter.

 

The spirit pointed again, leading him down the alley until they reached an obscure little street that managed to be even dingier and cheerless than Knockturn Alley

 

There were banks of snow piled up next to the side of a rundown building, which, from the sign at the front, appeared to be a place where one might sell cloth, metals and other oddments for a price.  Three figures moved in different directions and at different paces through the cold night air, their bodies laden with bags and lumpy objects slung over their backs.

 

“Why are we here?” he asked the spirit. “I cannot see what I might learn from this.”

 

Instead of replying, the spirit placed its frigid, bony hand on his shoulder and they floated through the wall of the building as though it were insubstantial.  

 

“Come on, come on,” said a gruff, stout man, who had more hair growing from his ears and nostrils than he had on his head. “What do we have here, then?”

 

The first to enter the shop was a stooped, older woman, whose face was wrinkled and whose milky colored eyes blinked rapidly through thick lenses as she slung the sack that had been thrown over her shoulder onto the floor instead. Her shape and face made her look very much like a mole wearing a patterned dress and kerchief. Another woman, who appeared to be built much like a stick insect, her straw-colored hair pinned up in a bun, entered moments later.  And finally, a short man with a curled mustache entered last, a rolled-up carpet slung over his shoulder like an oversized pop-gun.  All three looked at each other with bewilderment for a few long moments before simultaneously bursting out laughing.

 

Severus could not see what was so funny.  He did not think that he knew any of the three people or the reason for their merriment, which galled him, but he stayed the judgmental words stewing in his belly and waited for them to continue speaking.

 

“Why, we all met here without meaning to! What a happy accident!” the first woman said, clasping her hands together.

 

“Quite right, Mrs. Fletcher!’ the man guffawed, “though I think we all probably wished that we could have come sooner, isn’t that right, Miz Deerborne?”

 

The tall woman nodded, her thin lips drawn up in an indulgent smile. “Well, I figured that ‘e wouldn’t be using them any longer, being dead an’ all.  Might as well make use of them, wouldn’t you say, Mr. Maddigan?”

 

“Hear, hear!” the man laughed, his large nose and red cheeks giving him the appearance of a young Santa.

 

“Besides, if he’d been anything less than a miserable old cuss with zero redeeming qualities, he might have had someone willing to look after him instead of dying alone and choking on his own vileness.” Miz Deerborne shuddered, her expression sour.

 

“It’s the truest words that ever were spoke, I tell ye,” Mr. Maddigan said with a sage nod.

 

“Well, I think that he deserved a bit heavier judgement considerin’ the way he acted in life,” Mrs. Fletcher said with a sniff. “Well, then, since I was first, I might as well show yeh what I brung.  C’mon, then, Joe, take a look at it and let me know what ‘tis worth.”

 

The man with the epic nose and ear hair sniffed and came around his podium with an appraising eyepiece in hand.

 

“Let’s see it, then.”

 

She nodded and dumped out the bag, which contained a bunch of dark fabric onto the floor.

 

“Is this...bed curtains?” Joe sniffed, going down on one knee and holding the fabric up to the light.  “And...blankets... _his_ blankets?”

 

“Well whose else do you suppose they’d be, then?” Mrs. Fletcher had her hands on her hips with exasperation.

 

“And...the nightshirt?” Joe held up something gray and wrinkled.

 

“Aye, and you can look the whole thing over and you won’t find a single threadbare place. They would have wasted it by dressing him up in it, if it hadn’t been for me.”

 

Severus stared in horror at the scene.  The clothing and the blankets had obviously been stolen from a man’s deathbed, but no one seemed to care a whit.  If anything, the chuckles and knowing looks from the other two individuals indicated that they too had plundered from the man with zero remorse for their actions.

 

“I see.” Joe did some measurements with his hands and folded the material neatly. “Well, the quality of the cloth is quite high, so I could likely sell these at near-new cost to the clothier I contract with.  I’ll give you a Galleon and five Knuts for the lot.”

 

Mrs. Fletcher clapped her hands and smiled gleefully as she shook his hand to seal the deal.

 

Severus turned back to the spirit, which waited, silent, behind him.

 

“Spirit, please tell me that you are showing me a man whose life would have ended similarly to my own had I not promised to change, which I assure you, I shall,” Severus said, his heart skipping a beat with the sinking sensation that he knew exactly _whose_ things they were.

 

Instead of replying, the Spirit pointed behind Severus, and he turned, the scene vanishing like smoke as he beheld a dark room, the mattress stripped and the curtain rods bare save a few silver rings that had been left behind when they’d been torn down.  A corpse lay on the bed wearing only a pair of gray underpants, its limbs blue and rigid with rigor mortis. The head and face was in shadow, but Severus could not bring himself to step closer and behold the face of the poor wretch. Rather, he was filled with an almost frantic terror at the prospect of doing so.

 

“Please, Spirit!” he implored the dark spectre, “Show me a bit of tenderness and love connected with this ghastly image! Please, do not let this be the last thing I see while I walk at your side!”

 

The spirit gave no reply, but crooked its finger and led Severus through the mist away from the bed until they came to a door that Severus instantly recognized.

 

“The Burrow!” he exclaimed, hoping that perhaps he would be able to see some happiness here.

 

But alas, this was not to be.  For everyone inside was wearing black, their face somber.  Ron Weasley sat by the fire with his older son and daughter, his eyes vacant as he stared at the fire instead of the Wizarding Chess set that had been placed on a little table. Cho Chang sat by his side, holding his hand, but she might as well have been a million miles away for all the attention he was paying her.  The children were playing against one another, but their manner, too, was still rather subdued.  Molly burst in from the kitchen, all nervous energy and a red face that made it obvious that she’d been crying recently.  She clasped her youngest son around his shoulders and Ron’s eyes filled with the tears that had been threatening to come.

 

“Mum, don’t squeeze me so,” he choked out, his voice husky, “it makes my eyes water.”

 

The house, which had been full of laughter and light was now silent as a grave.  There were many people milling about, but none of them spoke, their bodies slumped in defeat as though they were walking wearily under a great weight.

 

“And so, he greeted death like an old friend,” said George softly, reading from a little book near the window.

 

Severus knew those words- they were familiar, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on where he’d heard it before.

 

“‘Mione will be back soon, Mum. I can’t be like this when she gets here,” Ron said, wiping at his face with his sleeve. “I’ve got to be strong for her.  She’s carried him for so long...and almost every day, she came to meet him until the very...end….”

 

Ron heaved a heavy sighing breath, his eyes watering again.

 

The door opened and Ron stood, running to Hermione and nearly knocking her over with his embrace. “I’m glad you’re back.”

 

Hermione smiled, but the expression didn’t reach her sad, tired eyes.  She was gentle and pleasant with all who greeted her, and as she took the empty seat by the fire, her older children stopped and sat, their cheeks pressed against each of her knees as they gazed up at her and tried to give her words of comfort.

 

“Mum, please, don’t be sad,” they chorused. “We’re here; we’re still here!”

 

But Hermione shook her head and refused to air her grief, instead asking about the chess game and praising Hugo’s use of the Digby Defense.

 

“It’s beautiful,” Hermione said, turning to Ron. “You really must come and see the green hill.  There is sun and shade and...I promised him I’d come every week if I could...My Mortimer...Tim...my child….my little b-boy....” Her words began to break apart as she balled her hands into fists and tried to stop the tears from coming in vain.  She broke down, bending at the waist for she could no longer hold herself upright as the pain of her loss washed over her body.

 

Severus ran to place his hand on her shoulder, his chest bursting with sorrow for the boy and his family, but his hand passed through her as though he were a ghost.

 

“Surely there is something that can be done!” Severus shouted at the spirit, who stood, unmoving, near the wall.  “Surely little Tim does not have to die and leave his family before his time! Please! If nothing else, at least tell me these shadows may yet change to something brighter! That I may not end up like that unnamed man….left to rot alone in a dismal room! Tell me! What is my fate?!  Show me, damn you! Show me!”

 

The spirit crossed its arms and closed the distance between them, its hooded head looming over Severus menacingly.  

 

And then, it pointed behind him.

 

Severus turned, and beheld the most wretched of graveyards he’d ever seen in his life.  The headstones were cracked and broken, lichen and mosses covering nearly every bit of stone until the markings upon the marble were obscured or illegible.  It was obvious that this place was rarely visited, and cold rain poured down upon them both like daggers made of ice.  The spirit pointed again and Severus turned back, suddenly afraid.

 

“Please, at least answer me this.  Are these the shadows of what WILL happen, or merely shadows that show what MAY happen? For I would like to know if there is hope of changing them... _no_ ...I _must_ believe that they can be changed, for what reason would you show me these horrific visions unless they might be altered in some way?” Severus knew he was practically groveling, now, but he didn’t care anymore.

 

The spirit merely continued pointing and Severus turned, his head hanging in resignation, to look upon the grave that the spirit had indicated, only to turn back and grab the hem of the spirit’s robes and look up, tears filling his eyes.

 

“Please, Spirit! Give me some hope that I may make amends with those I have wronged, that there is still time for me to change and become a good man in the eyes of those who know me!  I do not think that I can bear the thought of ending my days like that wretched man...a man that I do not, under any circumstances, wish to be!” Severus trembled, but he still followed the path of the spirit’s skeletal finger across the headstone- the headstone that bore his name, just as he’d known all along it would. “I shall change! I swear it! For what is the spirit of Christmas but keeping love and kindness in one’s heart when times are lean and difficult? In fact, I’ll do you one better, Spirit, I will promise to keep Christmas in my heart all the year, if I might change the course of these shadows and sponge away the horrid writing on this cursed stone!”

 

He pulled at the shroud fervently, his voice growing strained until he croaked out the last few words, his body shaking with fear and horror.  But then, a curious thing happened.  The fabric grew loose in his hands and the spectre dwindled, shrinking down upon itself until it was but a circle of gray upon the ground and Severus nearly cried out as the mist cleared away leaving him staring up at his bedpost. He looked down to see that the fabric that he held so tightly in his hands was the fabric of his duvet, and the horrible graveyard was nowhere to be seen.

 

“I...I’m home....” he croaked, his eyes fluttering momentarily before opening wide with excitement. “Home! I’m home again!”


	6. Part 6

Severus stood, his entire body quivering with joy as he inhaled and exhaled slowly, paying close attention to the steady beat of his heart.  _ Alive _ . He was  _ alive _ ! The clock ticked peacefully by the wall and he could see that it was early, but not too early for others to still be in bed if, indeed, it was truly morning. In his eagerness to see another human being, Severus nearly ran out the door of his quarters in his nightshirt and without his wand, which would have been unheard-of only a short time before.

 

“Oh, silly me, silly me,” he muttered in a sing-song sort of way that was wholly uncharacteristic of his old self. “Now, then, I’m sure it’s still Christmas, I can’t have missed it, oh no. It simply would not do…”

 

When his last button had been fastened and his wand was tucked securely in his pocket, he tore out of his quarters with a speed and ferocity that left the door vibrating on its hinges behind him.  He walked with such a spring in his step that he nearly ran over the second year Hufflepuff student who appeared to be on his way back to the Hufflepuff common room with a library book.

 

“Merry Christmas, lad!” Severus said loudly by way of greeting.

 

The boy turned and his face went from a look of pleasant concentration to one of terror.

 

“Tell me, is it still Christmas morning?” Severus asked, smiling wide and doing his best to give off a pleasant air.

 

“Y...y-yes, s-sir,” the boy stuttered, clutching the book against his chest and toeing the stone floor.

 

“Oh, excellent, excellent!” Severus said, clasping his hands together. “Tell me, can you do me a favor?”

 

“Anything, Headmaster,” the boy said, his fear slowly turning into confusion.

 

“Run down to the kitchens and have the elves prepare the fattest, juiciest roast goose they have, will you?”  Severus nearly began to snicker as he imagined the looks on the Weasley family’s faces when a giant roast goose materialized on their kitchen table.

 

“A...goose?” The boy was frowning with confusion now.

 

“Yes! The biggest they can get, dear boy.  Have an elf meet me in my offices when they have finished and I will give them further directions.” Severus finished and the boy started to run off towards the kitchens. “Oh, and boy!”

 

The Hufflepuff boy stopped and turned back. “Yes, sir?”

 

“If you get the message to the elves in ten minutes, you’ll receive ten points to Hufflepuff House! If you can get back in less, I’ll add another twenty!”  Severus chuckled as the boy turned and ran as fast as he could towards the kitchens.

 

He began a brisk walk up to the Headmaster’s quarters, greeting everyone he came across with a smile and a bright “Merry Christmas to you!” 

 

His demeanor and expression were so guileless and earnest that even Sprout and Flitwick, who’d both been the most outspoken opponents of Severus’ war on Christmas wished him a Merry Christmas, their faces so full of shock that Severus couldn’t help but laugh. Minerva pulled him against her in a hug that was most enthusiastically returned.  As the morning wore on, more students filled the halls, wishing the Headmaster of Hogwarts a Merry Christmas and returning his smile with one of their own.

 

And though Severus would always remember the joys of that first Christmas morning after the visit of the four phantoms that had altered the course of his life forever, he would remember those kind greetings and genuine smiles of those who were happy to see him as the very best gift he’d ever received in his life.

 

As the afternoon began to wear on, Severus advised Minerva that he would be attending his godson’s Christmas party and, after another rather firm hug from the Deputy Headmistress, Severus wrapped his cloak around his thin frame and strode out onto the snowy grounds of Hogwarts until he reached the gates, whereupon he Apparated to the front walk of Draco’s manor house in the country.  The building was smaller than Malfoy Manor, but it was far more cheerful and cosy in a way that made Severus far prefer its modest size to the alternative. Though he was still fairly early, Severus paced in front of the door at least a dozen times trying to build up the courage to knock at the door. Finally, he had to force himself at a run to approach the thick, oak door and bang the knocker, which resounded inside so loudly, he was at once filled with the mad desire to simply Disapperate then and there.

 

But before he could move, the door had opened and a house elf opened the door, clothed in a scale model version of a serving maid’s uniform.

 

“Good evening, sir,” the elf chirped. “May I help you?”

 

Severus was impressed with her unusually erudite manner of speaking and smiled politely. “Merry Christmas!” he exclaimed, “Thank you for opening this door, young lady. I am your master’s godfather and I have an invitation to his much-anticipated Christmas party.  Pray, where might I find him?”

 

“Why, he’s in the dining room, with the Mistress,” the elf replied merrily.

 

“I shall come at once and join them, that is, if it is all right with you,” Severus replied, his hand on the doorknob as though to push it open further.

 

“Oh, yes, yes, come in! Come in!” The elf bowed and pulled open the door the rest of the way, making space for Severus to enter.

 

“Why, Merry Christmas, Draco, Astoria!” Severus cried as he pulled open the dining room door with a song in his heart.

 

“Merlin’s beard!” Draco cried, “Is that you, Godfather? Why, it’s a Christmas miracle, if ever I saw one!”

 

Severus stayed at Draco’s party until the wee hours of the morning eating, singing, and playing party games with the others. Even Blaise seemed to be at a loss of words at the Headmaster’s sudden change in demeanor, but the general consensus seemed to be that it was miraculous indeed. Draco’s hug and the kiss Severus received on his cheek from Astoria at the end of the night filled him with so much warmth and cheer that he didn’t even need to use a Warming Charm on his freezing walk up from the gates of Hogwarts to the castle entrance.

 

The next morning, Severus rose very early indeed, for he had one goal in mind- to catch Hermione Weasley (for she was not yet Granger again, per her own request) late for her early morning patrol.

 

And he did it, too, much to his great delight.  

 

Severus made sure to position himself right by the front doors to the castle, a hasty Disillusionment Charm covering his body as he waited in the shadows.  He waited a full twenty minutes barely hiding his snickers of amusement as he waited for her. But then...finally...Hermione was in the door and had thrown her cloak and bag to the floor, not even worrying about the melting snow that was spreading out around her in a massive puddle.  She immediately pulled out her wand and rushed down the hall as though she might be able to turn back time simply by moving quickly enough.

 

“AHEM.” Severus stepped out from his alcove, drawing himself up to his full height like a great, furious bat with his arms folded. Hermione jumped in surprise so violently as he spoke, that she looked as though she were temporarily hovering in the air. It was very hard to keep himself from giggling as he forced himself to speak in a cruel, cold voice. “And what, exactly, do you think you are doing, coming in so very late in the morning when I  _ specifically _ told you that you were to be here early for your patrol? Come to my office.  _ Now _ .”

 

Severus strode ahead, hearing the soft, defeated thud of Hermione’s boots behind him and had to cover his mouth to keep from giving away the ruse.  

 

When they finally got to the office, Hermione sat on the hard chair where she had been seated before, and Severus could scarcely believe that it had barely been more than forty-eight hours earlier.

 

“I’ve spoken with you before about this, and I shall not stand for it a second longer,” Snape said, raising his voice as he bent over the desk in what he hoped looked like a threatening manner. “In fact, I have decided that it can’t be helped.  Effective immediately, Professor, you shall find yourself with...A MARKED INCREASE IN YOUR SALARY!”

 

Hermione looked up, her eyes flashing with anger as though she were about to argue the legitimacy of having been fired, when the words seemed to hit her and she sat backwards in her chair, blinking rapidly with sudden understanding.

 

“Merry Christmas, Hermione,” Severus said, extending his hand. “What say you that we shake on the deal, but not before we have a little chat about extending your use of the Potions lab and school ingredients for experimental brewing techniques...techniques, I might add, that I am similarly interested in.  Also, we must really do something about your children, as they are unable to be near you during the school year.  A renovation of your quarters is in order, I say, with floo privileges to wherever their father has decided to take up residence, as I can see that you won’t let his abandonment rob your children of their dad.”

 

Hermione blinked back tears and nodded, obviously far too overwhelmed to speak, but she did place her hand in his and shook it firmly.

 

“Here. Try this. It will make you feel a bit better, as you’re obviously still recovering from the holiday.” Severus handed her a sherbet lemon- they were the good ones coated with crystallized Pepperup Potion. Severus usually only used them in extreme situations, but something told him that he’d be more generous with them in the future.

 

“Is it really that obvious?” Hermione asked, taking the treat and looking much improved once she’d placed it in her mouth. “Ah, Pepperup Potion. It still works and yet it’s not bitter.  How curious.”

 

“It’s the lemon,” Severus replied conversationally, “It cancels it out somehow.”

 

“Sir, I’m not sure what’s got you in such a good mood today-”

 

“Please, call me Severus. I will not have you talking to me like some first year student,” Severus said with a smile so genuine that Hermione smiled back in kind. “So, then, I believe that I have reconsidered your needs in regards to the heating problem in the dungeons. I shall allocate five more cords of wood to your classroom per week, if that seems reasonable.”

 

By the utterly gobsmacked look on Hermione’s face, Severus guessed that it was.

Long after the Christmas season was past, Severus made good on his promise to the Spirit of Christmas Yet to Come.  He helped Hermione (who’d changed her name back to Granger after the formal divorce proceedings were over with) with the refinements on the potions that would hopefully cure Tim’s ailments and improve his quality of life, starting on weekends and eventually lengthening into entire summers.  They were able to find good treatment potions and Severus had paid for Hermione to take her children to swim with the dolphins, as he’d read that children with disabilities often thrived in their physical recuperation when given the chance to swim in the warm sea with a friendly cetacean. 

 

As they worked together, Hermione began to open up about the reason Ron had drifted away from her.

 

“It was my fault, really,” she said, one day, as they were waiting for the potions to steep for the final bottling process. “Rose and Hugo were born before I got my job here. I insisted on working through my entire pregnancy with Tim, and Ron is convinced that the potions fumes from the classroom are to blame for...how he is…He didn’t begin a relationship with Cho until long after we’d decided that it wasn’t working any longer, and that we’d eventually divorce.  I drew it out longer than it should have, though, because I had this idea that the children needed us together, but it simply isn’t true, and anyway, they’d already planned to marry again, which wouldn’t be possible until...well...you know.  He’s still my friend, even though it hurts to know it didn’t work out. And he’s a wonderful father, at least most of the time.”

 

Hermione looked away and Severus found his heart aching terribly for her.

 

“I came up with Tim’s runic frame based on some Muggle technology combined with magical treatment methods,” Hermione said, wiping away a tear and taking a deep breath. “It helps him breathe deeply so that he doesn’t come up short of breath or develop fluid there.  It also strengthens his lung capacity so that he can breathe regularly even when exerting himself.”

 

Severus was very impressed as Hermione explained more about the measures she’d created to protect her son.

 

Eventually, Severus became like a second father to Tim and his older siblings, often carrying the smaller boy on his shoulders as he patrolled the castle during the day.  Even long after Tim had grown stronger and no longer needed the frame around his chest, Severus still hoisted him up on his shoulders out of habit, and the boy, who would always be a bit small and fine-boned for his age, would whoop and cry out a high-pitched “Hurrah!” as they sped on, looking for troublemakers.

 

And, only four years from the date that Albus’ ghost had visited him, on Christmas Eve, no less, did Severus kiss Hermione under the mistletoe at the yearly Weasley Christmas Eve celebration, which had grown larger and more merry with each passing year.  Everyone applauded, as all had seen the remarkable change in Severus’ demeanor over the years and found him a changed man.  He still had mornings where he grumbled and scowled, but his heart was gentle and he’d found kindness under his rough, dour looks, which transformed his angular, naturally grumpy-looking face to be nearly unrecognizable when he smiled.

 

Tim was the ring-bearer at their wedding, his long, straight legs bounding down the aisle with the abandon and joy of a child who’d known infirmity and was now free of it. Hugo and Rose were attendants and took their job seriously, standing beside their mother and stepfather, respectively with solemn looks on their faces that were summarily hugged away when the bride and groom finished sealing their vows with a peck on the lips.  

 

Some people laughed to see the change in his demeanor, but Severus merely laughed with them, for he knew that keeping up appearances for the sake of others was a fool’s errand. Besides, there was no sense in pretending to be miserable, for, after having allowed happiness into his heart, his own life was transformed. No longer was he galled and irritated by interactions with others, and he found himself making deep connections with those that he loved and felt great esteem for.

 

Though he lived a great many years after that fateful night, Severus Snape always kept Christmas in his heart no matter the time of year, and everyone who knew him knew this basic fact was as true as breathing. He relentlessly brought kindness into a world that was often cold and unforgiving despite his own cruel beginnings and jaded past. Most importantly, Severus never forgot the lessons he’d learned from the spirits.  Thankfully, Albus had been true to his word, and Severus, gladly, never did see him again. It was, he supposed, for the best. Severus cherished his adopted family and even enjoyed being shown up by Hermione every so often.  Although life was not perfect, Severus was content with what he’d made of his life and was often frankly amazed at the transformation he’d made in such a short time. In fact, the transformation was so utterly complete that he never worried that he might turn back into the hateful creature he’d been before.

 

For, as Tim would often say to his adoptive father, “With love, anything is possible.”


End file.
